any more than a whisper, any movement of my heart
by particularly good finder
Summary: The broken boy forgot how to scream, and his savior will take any blow to see him rise from the dead. Finn/Kurt


**I'm not quite sure what I think of this, but I don't think I like it. Oh, well. =(**

**Request from Xanjen. I hope you like it! I'm sorry if I screwed up your idea, this just vomited itself out onto the screen. **

* * *

_honey you know i'd never hurt you that way_  
**you're just so pretty in your pain**

**:-:**

Kurt refused to run.

Dave Karofsky was back, that much was true. But Kurt wasn't going to waste the little money his parents had to be a coward. Kurt Hummel would not run.

This proved to be a dire mistake. Karofsky didn't let a chance to terrorize the smaller boy pass by. Though the dumpster dives and slushies seemed to die down (only to increase for the other losers of McKinley High), everything else intensified. Azimio and the other asshole jocks seemed to have grown bored with terrorizing the resident homo, but Karofsky made Kurt's pain his mission.

The slender boy's slowly deteriorating body was a canvas of bruises from being slammed into lockers, and his torn textbooks and stolen property a testament to the daily abuse. Burt Hummel did all he could to save his son – weekly trips to threaten Principal Figgens, complaints to the school board, calls to the Karofsky household – but nothing helped. Sue did her best to watch out for Porcelain, but even the seemingly-omni-present coach couldn't stop the more psychological aspect of the bullying.

Kurt was always scared. He had refused to run because Hummels weren't cowards, but the constant paranoia didn't make him feel brave. He stopped eating; he stopped sleeping. He even stopped singing. Kurt no longer fought Rachel for solos. He stopped showing up to glee practice. The fear gnawed away at his heart, leaving a gaping hole in his chest.

And then it got worse. At home, Kurt had been okay. He would sometimes smile at Finn; sometimes teach him how to make chocolate chip cookies or how to record games on the TV. But now – the terror hung around him like a dark cloud. He wouldn't look Finn in the eye, wouldn't talk to Carole or hug his dad. Kurt just locked himself away, nothing but a deadly silence coming from his room. Finn would've been worried if there had been sad music blasting from his speakers or distraught sobs coming from behind the door, but there was _nothing_. And that _terrified_ Finn.

What Finn didn't know – what _no one_ knew – was that Karofsky's attacks were no longer just physical and psychological; they were sexual, as well. The kiss in the locker room had not been the first, and it had not been the extent of the assaults.

The worst sent him into a severe depression. Kurt stopped wearing his flamboyant outfits, settling for plain shirts and pants in shades of grey and black. Blaine called the house at one point, worried, because Kurt wouldn't text him back. Mercedes and Brittany stopped by every day, bearing ice cream and movies, only to be turned down.

The boy would just lie on his bed, staring at the ceiling, reenacting the horrid moment over and over again in his head.

**:-:**

_i__ can't hear  
_**your screams anymore**

**:-:**

_Kurt tried to yell as he was thrown into a closet, but a large hand closed over his mouth, and the world was enveloped in darkness. The door clicked shut, and a chapped pair of lips were on his mouth, swallowing any protests he tried to utter. He tried to hit the larger boy, but his arms were pinned against the wall above his head. He tried to run, but he couldn't summon the energy. He was so tired. Tired of running, tired of being scared, tired of living. _

_He didn't fight. He _let _it happen. And that's what scared him the most._

_Hands delved under his black shirt, roughly examining the pale expanse of skin. Dave was forceful, violent, even, and it _hurt_. _

"_If you stop me, I'll _kill_ you," Dave whispered, unzipping Kurt's jeans. The small boy whimpered, but couldn't bring himself to run. He was trembling, crying, but still. His pants pooled at his ankles, and his knees buckled as he tried not to pass out. Karofsky bit the boy's neck as he undid his own pants, breaking the flesh. _

_Cool air hit Kurt's inner thighs as his boxers were torn down, and a scream struggled in his throat as Dave pressed up against him, swollen member grazing the small boy's entrance. _

_Tears were liberally streaming down Kurt's face as Karofsky licked his chest, teeth drawing blood as they latched onto the bony frame. Kurt gagged, bile filling his mouth. _

_Karofsky stood up, a primal gleam in his eyes. Preparing to do the worst, he leaned in, whispering, "I'll kill you. I'll kill you."_

_Kurt bit his hand until it bled down his cheek, holding back screams until he forgot how to speak at all. _

**:-:**

_but you held me down  
_**and screamed you wanted me to die**

**:-:**

After a week of the unnerving silence, Finn gave up. He had tried to give Kurt space, but he cared for the small boy and couldn't watch him suffer any longer. When Burt and Carole sat down to watch TV, Finn picked the lock to Kurt's bedroom, letting himself in. His stepbrother did not look up; his eyes were glazed over as he watched the ceiling fan spin, and his mouth was slack and useless.

The past couple of months had not been good to Kurt; his jaw line was too defined, his collarbone too prominent. His once beautiful eyes were a blue-gray color now, uninterested and dead.

"Kurt? You hungry? You didn't eat much at dinner." Finn asked, sitting down on the bed. Kurt did not acknowledge the boy's presence at all. He just watched the fan, lifeless.

"Kurt? Are you okay?" He shook Kurt's shoulder, leaning over him worriedly.

"Kurt? Can you hear me? Should I call Burt and Mom?" He made for the door, stopped by a weak hand on his. Kurt didn't look up, but he pulled Finn back, sitting him down on the bed.

He tried to let go of Finn's hand, but Finn held on. He cradled the skeletal appendage in both of his hands, trying to warm the frigid flesh. Kurt closed his eyes, holding completely still.

He looked like Sleeping Beauty to Finn. His hair brushed prettily over his forehead, just begging to be pushed back by a gentle hand. His eyelids were a light violet color (probably not healthy, Finn mused, but nice to look at all the same), and his pink lips contrasted greatly with his pale skin.

Without thinking, Finn leaned over and brushed those lips with his own. Kurt's eyes flew open, and he pulled his hand back from Finn's grip. He looked scandalized and distraught and excited and confused and lustful and so many emotions he hadn't shown in so long that Finn wanted to kiss him again, just to see what other magic he could work.

So he did, and this time he got slapped. Adrenaline rushed through Finn, along with determination and hope. He pulled Kurt's slender frame against his, opening his mouth against his stepbrother's. He forced his tongue into the small boy's mouth, and was met with a fist. He didn't stop Kurt from hitting him; months of malnutrition and little exercise had weakened the boy, so it didn't hurt all that much at first.

By morning Finn had a bloody nose and a black eye (he told his mom he fell down the stairs trying to get a midnight snack). Kurt still wasn't talking, but at least he would make eye contact with his family.

_It's a start_, Finn thought. _And I'll make sure I finish it_.

**:-:**

_sickened in the sun_  
**you dare tell me you love me**

**:-:**

A week passed before Finn tried again. Kurt was doing homework when he walked in, and the way he chewed on his pen drove Finn crazy. Before either of them realized it, his mouth was on Kurt's neck, sucking tenderly at the sensitive skin. Kurt stood up, pushing Finn away.

But Finn persisted. He was getting somewhere, he was sure. He grabbed Kurt's waist, pulling him close.

"STOP!" The small boy screamed. Finn gaped; it was the first word the boy had spoken in weeks.

Everything came bubbling out. "Just _stop_ it, Finn! I'm not your plaything; you can't experiment with me, then leave me to bleed in a closet while you pretend to be normal! You just can't!"

The small boy slapped Finn across the face, splitting his lip. Finn smiled; he was regaining his strength.

"I'm a person! I'm a human being! You can't just-just- You can't take what's mine! You can't take everything from me! You've violated me, and-!"

Kurt shoved Finn against the wall, sobbing. "I _hate _you! _I HATE YOU_." Finn did not hit back, or even flinch. Instead, he said the three words that he knew would break the small boy down.

"I love you."

Kurt fell to the ground, pulling Finn with him. Finn stroked his hair as he cried, kissing his temple, his cheek, his jaw. Kurt clung to his stepbrother, soaking his shirt with a lifetime of tears.

"It's okay…shh…it's okay. You're safe. I don't know what he did to you, but you're safe now. You've got me."

He kissed Kurt's forehead, then his nose. The small boy hiccupped, lips twitching into a small smile.

"He won't hurt you again…I promise."

And Kurt screamed. He screamed everything he felt, pounding his fists against the floor, kicking his bedposts, clinging to Finn with every fiber of his being.

He screamed until his voice gave out, and then he slept, another first.

**:-:**

_so run, run, run_  
**and hate me, if it feels good**

**:-:**

Dave came to school on crutches the next week, with no memory of his _accident_. He steered clear of Kurt, who was always accompanied by Finn. Dumpster dives still happened, slushies still happened, but the fear…it disappeared into the night with Kurt's screams.

Finn kissed Kurt's head as they parted for class, drawing the eyes of all who stood around them, but no one said a word. The small boy grinned, flipping his bangs back as he strutted down the hall, bright yellow McQueen jacket thrown over his shoulder. Kurt Hummel was back in town, a sparkle in his blue-green eyes and a man by his side.

**:-:**

_i'll make my own way__, __without your senseless hate__  
_**and you'll never hurt me again**


End file.
